


Red In The East

by Kalael



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalael/pseuds/Kalael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her wrath is eternal, even as her hands begin to fail.  The orcs outnumber her by their thousands but by the Valar she will not rest until she has no more strength within her to lift her sword.</p><p>(What Tauriel turns to in the face of her grief is something no man, elf, or dwarf can fault her for)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red In The East

They share their stories of the stars, the legends passed down through word and mouth to be eventually split between their lips, soft starlight on her tongue and iron behind his teeth.

It is too dreamlike to be satisfying. She knows upon waking that she will taste bitterness, and she will move again, sword in hand and heart in stone. The talismen rests in a setting of silver steel, in a mithril cage to keep the promise that he gave to her. It sits heavy over her heart, cool metal and warm stone.

A promise to come back, a promise to come home. Tauriel does not make promises that she cannot keep.

She follows the orcs into the wild, hair flying in the wind and bow strapped to her back. Wherever she goes the shadow of death trails behind her. In the blood of her quarry, in the fading of her eyes. Her horse sleeps while she keeps watch in the night, her ears picking up on every cursed orc wail in the distance. They do not know what is coming for them.

She is shrouded in dwarven and elven clothes alike. A gilt hairband from the Lonely Mountain, a fine cloak from Mirkwood. A shield of the lightest metal the dwarves can forge. Wherever she goes the shadow of the past precedes her. It is in the eyes of the dwarves who trade with her, in the sorrow of the elves who heal her. There are no secrets that Tauriel can keep from them because they _know_ , her story is one that will be placed in the stars, and she can only pray that they place hers beside his own.

 _Kili_ , she whispers at night, _amrâlimê_. Her tongue trips over that foreign dwarvish word, Khuzdul still a clumsy language for her to attempt. She doesn’t know what it means, had never been able to ask the many dwarves she has encountered exactly what Kili had said to her that day.

Deep down, she knows the answer.

Dwarvish mourning celebrates life, and Elvish mourning clings too closely to the violence of death. The dwarves drink and sing and laugh their way through the tears that so inevitably fall. The elves are weak to their sorrow, death so uncommon among them that it is always startling to remember that they are not immune to the blades that would pierce them.

She fades slowly, but she does not do so quietly. Her sorrow is countered with rage, created by a pain so deep that it has scarred through the core of her with no hope of healing. No amount of Elvish glamour can hide a broken heart and Tauriel fears love in all its forms, all its pleasantries and aches.

Her wrath is eternal, even as her hands begin to fail. The orcs outnumber her by their thousands but by the Valar she will not rest until she has no more strength within her to lift her sword.

The sun rises red in the east, telling of bloodshed in the night. The stars fade out of view, hidden by the blinding morning. Tauriel wipes her blade, pale hands shaking, and stands in the wreckage of the orc camp she had slaughtered.

If this is love, let all of those who took hers from this world be burned in it.

**Author's Note:**

> I got 'amrâlimê' from The Dwarrow Scholar, which appears to be a fairly reliable source. You can find more about Neo-Khuzdul on their website, https://dwarrowscholar.wordpress.com/


End file.
